


Adrift in Reality

by fitzu



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Angst and Tragedy, Delusions, F/M, Flashbacks, Self-Destruction, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-17
Updated: 2021-01-17
Packaged: 2021-03-15 10:14:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,180
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28811775
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fitzu/pseuds/fitzu
Summary: It has been decades since the tragedy. Sylvain chose to fight alongside the Professor and the Eagles in their fight against the Empire. In doing so, he lost someone very dear to him. He never truly got over her. Her death ultimately consumed him, drowned him in a never-ending sorrow.One day, the old margrave saw an apparition in the garden. He decided soon after to chase the wandering illusion. He believed he could find closure by reliving his memories through her and reaching a destination. In the process of chasing Ingrid's shadow, the noble begins to regain his identity and finds a new path.Check out the accompanying art from oneletterdilf https://twitter.com/oneletterdiff/status/1350975477960343553?s=20
Relationships: Ingrid Brandl Galatea/Sylvain Jose Gautier
Comments: 1
Kudos: 13
Collections: Sylvgrid Big Bang





	Adrift in Reality

The Great Tree Moon arrived once more. The new day was ushered in with the pleasant chirping of songbirds. A weary set of eyes looked upon the rising sun with passive interest. His joints ached as he returned to his feet. He slowly went about wiping away any debris on his person. He swatted leaves and dirt from his body to the earth. The thought of resting underneath a tree had its ups and downs. It was a far cry from a soft bed. The soreness in the man’s back was immediately apparent.

His brown eyes wandered the scenery. There was not another soul in the clearing. Isolation was nothing new or unexpected for the man. He found some level of comfort in being at his lonesome. There was no one to call him insane for starters. If anyone that knew him saw his pitiful state, they would think a shadow of his once outspoken personality. So, the older man preferred a solitary life.

He ran a hand through his locks as he collected his bearings. His once vermillion hair had numerous streaks of white and gray, but there was not a hint of baldness. It was enough of a consolation. His vanity only diminished some of the years. His renowned bravado was mostly humbled. He flashed a smile to the vast brush ahead. For all he knew, there were millions of acres ahead of the forest.

The older man felt nothing toward his lack of direction. His journey never had a destination. The frigid weather only told him that he had yet to leave the Kingdom’s realm. Or rather, it was what was once the Kingdom of Faerghus. His homeland was incorporated into the Unified Fódlan. A new era of peace was ensured under the guidance of his professor. The continent no longer called itself Faerghus, Adrestia, or Leicester. It was all Fódlan.

A small smile lingered on his face. The bittersweet memories always brought him some emotion. He remembered well storming Enbarr to watching Shambhala be buried. His worst emotions were stowed away by optimism. The losses were meaningless once he saw a better future. The continent was liberated from the villains that brought it harm and chaos. Edelgard, the Agarthans, and a crazed Rhea no longer loomed over the common man.

There was a spring in his step as he thought back on the first days after the war. He had ambition and a clear vision. In this new world, he could do better. He thought to free his territories of their crestless stigma. He sought to normalize relations with Sreng. He desired to save his subjects from conflict and famine. His contributions in the war granted Gautier lands to extend to almost the whole of North Faerghus. Much of Fraldarius and Galatea lands were ceded to the aspiring margrave.

The good feelings once dulled the pain. The older man absently smiled at the horizon. His almost five-year-long journey had him appreciating nature on a new level. More nights than not, he opted to sleep in the wilderness and live away from civilization. The great nobleman that took the region by storm was a humble do-gooder. The positivity drained once his mind jumped to recent years. The “extraordinary lord” remembered by history used optimism and his successes as his vices.

It was inevitable that tragedy would strike him again. There was bound to be a natural disaster of some kind. The goddess herself could not continue to protect the lands forever. It took years to catch up to him. There were times where he let sorrow consume him, but a nasty blight coupled with a brutal winter storm had him lose sight of himself entirely.

The former margrave was not a perfect man during his glory years after the war. His habit of philandering never left him. He sometimes used the habit as a coping mechanism. It was how he ultimately sired his heir, a crestless child born healthy and strong. He also let his melancholy linger in the back of his mind. Sometimes he was cold to his progeny and servants. Truthfully, he never aspired to be a perfect father.

But, the redhead made up for those flaws with his idealism. His efforts changed minds on both sides of the border. The north was a more peaceful place than it ever was before. On his good days, he was larger than life. Many claimed that he was a spiritual successor to the Blaiddyd and Fraldarius families. The names of Dimitri, Glenn, and Felix were lost to history and replaced by him.

Ironically, those sentiments fed into the former noble’s very downfall. Those expectations coupled added to his mental fragility. The day of tragedy struck his region he took complete responsibility. His darkness consumed him wholly. All his progress meant nothing in the face of his tragedy. He delayed the hard truth for too long. He very nearly avoided the worst. But, it was upon seeing the misery firsthand that his mind went back to the turning point. The distance created between his life as a soldier to his tenure as lord of the north proved insufficient.

His turning point was not Edelgard’s first battle at the monastery. It was not the war waged on his homeland by Cornelia either. It was the bloodbath at Gronder. It was the day that he truly lost everything that mattered.

After the battle, his youthful self decided to spend the month before the siege of Fort Merceus to attend to the dead. The battle that his professor and Seteth... the battle that he avoided had a horrible cost. He lost so much on that familiar battlefield. He had to give his respects. He had to say goodbye.

Any warmth in his expression vanished. The older man’s smile creased. His heart rebelled against his forward march. He fought the urge to lurch forward and revel in the inexorable pain. In recompense for his foolishness, he opted to play gravedigger. It was his original intent to search for the survivors. That fantasy, however, was shattered instantly.

The memories of that day were thoroughly repressed. The images were thoroughly hidden by his subconscious. Sadly, the emotions were not so easily suppressed. The feeling of learning the fates of his close friends weighed heavy on his heart. His worst fears were realized. That month represented the inferno to him. There was no place for him during the professor’s lectures or strategizing. The sorrow had him banish any company. He only continued to apologize to the headstones.

Dimitri. His monarch and friend. The man he thought would lead him to a better future. The redhead always imagined working alongside the royal to achieve their vision of Faerghus. Yet, the blonde was relegated to a vile fate, a pincushion to a sea of pikes. It was one that did not befit his station. He should have been the one to usher their homeland to the new tomorrow. 

Felix. His closest ally and best friend. The swordsman always cared for him. He trained so hard to protect him and the rest of their friends. He devoted himself to save them from the grief they experienced from Duscur. Instead, his life was spent in a meaningless battle. The losses incurred to the Empire were equivalent to the Kingdom’s and Alliance’s. The swordmaster left his best friend for no good reason.

And worst of all, Ingrid. The woman he loved. His feelings for her were rattled on that pitiful day. He so often ruled his feelings toward her as a passing crush. One that would come and go. Like he would ever fall for his friend. She was never his type. He preferred someone like Mercedes, someone that feminine and refined. Someone that... he would not worry about losing. And when he did accept his love for her and admitted it to the blonde, they were unable to pursue anything more. 

Sylvain thought his heartaches would disappear after the dead were buried. He would move on from his love and find another. He assumed the pegasus knight would fade from his memory, allow him the respite to make the most of his new path. But whenever his mind returned to that fateful event, the pain felt all too fresh.

On the day his lands suffered the blight and storm, his mind traveled back to the day he had to say goodbye to her and the rest. His mind stayed there for days to weeks to a whole year. His gloom placed a veil over Gautier lands. The then margrave was a specter. Many of the people assumed he died. His classmates in the Black Eagle House tried to visit him. The few survivors of his former house attempted too. Alas, many started to truly believe he was dead.

The middle-aged man felt a pang of guilt at the thought. It was not his intent to be so callous to his allies. His arm moved to brush away the fresh tears. Like the morning dew, they welcomed him at the beginning of his day. His eyes scanned the unmarked path ahead. His mind still lingered on the impetus for his journey. The years spent wallowing were eventually interrupted.

Almost two years after the blight, the former margrave spared a glance at his estate on a whim. His tired brown eyes noticed a flash of gold amongst the greens in his garden. He parted from his wing of the manor for the first time in months on an impulse. All the servants that crossed his path openly gawked and dropped whatever they were doing to stare. Their wide eyes and hanging mouths earned no reaction from their lord. The redhead dressed in his sleeping attire entered the courtyard with little regard for pleasantries. He never neglected his training, so his body carried him to the spot with no difficulty. Even if he felt a tingling sense of numbness, the sensation did nothing to halt his march that day.

The elder’s sorrow vanished momentarily. The bitter feelings of the past were replaced by a momentary fondness. It was the day he entered the garden that he first saw the mirage. The delusion did not trick him. He was well-aware the apparition was not true. And yet, the sight of the familiar blonde hair had his cold heart swoon. She was out of his reach. The then margrave tried to close the gap between them. As he took the step forward, she was another step away. It appeared that he was only meant to watch.

From a distance, he watched the mirage. His mind was tricking him, but the image was far too pleasant to look away. She was no knight. Not yet. She was a little girl pretending to be one. She wore a seafoam dress and a soldier’s helm that was far too big for her small head. She was waving around a branch like it was a sword. The old man chuckled at how bewildered he was upon seeing her.

He continued to laugh as he remembered himself awkwardly calling out to her. The pair of fresh, emerald eyes never met his. While they were in his direction, they remained trained on someone else, some invisible presence. Her eyes were level with his legs. She was more than a trick of the light. His ears perked as he heard a child’s voice. “Sylvain, stop being a big meanie.” At that time, he was immediately perplexed, both by what spurred her words and how he heard the mirage’s voice.

The old man’s memory opened up another memory. Rather than five years ago, the other memory was almost half a century back. He was six years old at the time while she was four. He was kind yet a little insensitive, so quick to point out how the blonde girl was not tall enough to ride a pony. His comment had her puff her cheeks and openly pout. The young boy took to consoling her and reminding her that she would begin her sword training in a few months. The sweet memory had the old man of the past and present choke on air. The apparition vanished soon after.

That day was the beginning of a pattern. Throughout the week, he spotted her in the gardens. He attempted to get closer again and again, but the gap between them never disappeared. He asked a servant offhandedly about seeing any ghosts. The topic perplexed the woman had her confirm his suspicions. He was the only one that could see the girl in the garden. The whole week was spent chasing her. One time the lord of Gautier strayed from his manor and into the nearby wilderness. The servants prepared a search party and nearly assumed their liege was taken hostage.

His progeny, his advisors, and a few of the older staff did not mince words with him after that incident. He conceded to their pleas and agreed to not cause such an incident again. Since his “unspoken” retirement after the tragedies, he was lord in name alone. His son ran the estate and oversaw the north of Fódlan. But, the elder was still wanted. They all believed he would return. All were oblivious to the man’s despair and growing interest in his delusions.

In retrospect, the older man noted how it did not matter if the girl was real or not to him. She brought him his first taste of calm in a long time. The apparition halted the terrible memories and replaced them with fond ones. She had become his reason for living again. It was why he decided to journey.

When the girl did not appear in the gardens, he wandered the entire estate. He explored every corridor and investigated the entirety of the grounds. There was not a trace of her anywhere. It was only after he retraced his steps to the nearby woods that he noticed her. His genius was quick to rationalize her appearance. She was not “haunting” him. Whether she was a delusion or a ghost, she was not trying to plague his thoughts or save him from his unending misery. She was where he last saw her. But, she was not mimicking his movements. The delusion was guiding him without uttering a single word.

The realization was not enough to galvanize the old master of the territory. It took a few days of not seeing her have him reconsider. The apparition was the only thing on his mind. She occupied his thoughts completely. The disconnect between him and reality was more pronounced than ever. Everyone noticed that his usual distress had changed.

Everything culminated in an announcement. The renowned margrave was to formalize his retirement. He made the message to his family and confidants over dinner. His excuse was that he wished to travel and see the world. Some doubted the sentiment. The silver lance readied for him said otherwise. The nobleman rectified the confusion by altering his statement. He wanted to play vigilante. A knight of the people. The sentiment was met with much criticism. But, his words were final. His company at that time was forced to stow their reservations.

Not a single soul noticed him take the backroad that he got lost on, likely because he left in the dead of night. The witching hour provided him proper cover from prying eyes. While the people could not budge him on his position, they could stall him on his journey. None expected the older man to travel on foot with his heavy equipment. They all underestimated him. His discipline from the war never left him.

His lie was never uncovered. The old man found pride at the thought that nobody caught onto his true intent. He was a great knight, the bane of bandits and monsters. However, his true aim was to follow her. The mirage defined his path moving forward. The longevity of his travel was caused by losing sight of her from time to time. His travels had him start to adopt the lie. He was a champion of the common man, willing to devote his lance to those in need.

The redhead smiled as he spotted her not too far from his camp. Through his travels, he made a breakthrough in his understanding of the mirage. The longer he traversed her path the closer he got to her. The vast space between them shrunk over the years. The mirage was only mere meters away from him. She would be within his reach in little time. He was genuinely curious about what would happen once his hand reached the delusion.

The uncertainty both scared him and excited him. A part of the older man wondered if she would disperse upon contact or, likely not, prove to be tangible. He feared losing her again. The illusion was not Ingrid. He reminded himself of that fact constantly. She only reflected his memories. That fact was disheartening, but it told him that he was not that mad. Yet, he sometimes ignored the truth. She brought him purpose, an answer to his inexorable regret.

On the other hand, the answer to that question made him feel sane. He felt rational in wanting to know if there was any meaning in grasping her. His curiosity and goal made him feel alive again. The person he once was, Sylvain, lived on in him again.

The journey until that point was arduous. He lost sight of her plenty of times. As much as she was his obsession, his need to fulfill his... her sense of justice had him distracted. He also had pursers too. Regardless, the years-long quest gave him fulfillment. He smiled at the mirage. She was no longer a little girl. Instead, she nervously adorned a fresh uniform. The apparition finally arrived at age of seventeen.

He saw her grow from a pint-sized child to an almost grown woman. Each moment invoked a different kind of memory. While not every memory was pleasant, they all brought nostalgia. He found peace in the past. His present and future brought him only misery.

Then, the next part of his quest came to be. The specter only grew through memories. All memories were through his eyes. He watched her blossom into her adulthood through memory after memory. Every vision of her was different. All moments were grounded in reality too. It was like watching events happen one more time. His life flashed before his very eyes.

“Are you going to hold us up with your philandering again!? It is a long journey to Garreg Mach. We need to go now.”

He needed not to give a verbal answer. The man was only an observer. He learned many times in his journey that Ingrid never saw him. Her emerald eyes never strayed from the boy she was with back then. But, he often failed to stop himself from looking mad. He grew a habit of repeating the words he once shared with her. “Relax, relax. There’s no harm in a few kind words to some pretty ladies,” he was embarrassed with himself for saying that in the past and present.

“Typical. I’m going to have to deal with this for a whole year. Constantly. I already feel a headache.”

A pang of guilt hit the older man. There was some remorse in his heart for his misdeeds. He caused her a great deal of grief. He knew that cleaning up his mistakes did not make her happy. He constantly was reminded of the fact, from his juvenile years into the academy days. He wanted to apologize. Instead, he simply hummed and continued the conversation. “I’ll get better. It’s hard when I see such beautiful faces.”

“Oh stop! I know better than to believe your idiotic drivel.”

The conversation was far from meaningful. The redhead knew the significance of this memory was not their banter. It was the first time he saw her in the school’s uniform. She looked so beautiful that day. The touch of makeup by her mother and the new attire complimented the woman well. The black and gold went well with her straw-colored hair and emerald eyes.

The sight of her had the former margrave’s heart melt. She was radiant. He regretted immensely that he never told her... seriously. He did tell her quite often on that trip how beautiful she looked. He scratched the back of his head. A small blush lingered on his cheeks. Sometimes he could not believe how easily the apparition had him feeling like a schoolboy.

He continued to walk, knowing that he would need to pause as soon as the memory dispersed. His curiosity had him very eager to press onward. The delays until then took their toll on his patience. His brown eyes remained locked on the blonde in front of him. Her voice always had the effect of calming him.

“Don’t go drooling over other women now!”

It was not difficult to guess what he said back then, especially when all his memories of her felt so vivid. “Are you jealous of them? How cute.” Even if the memories sometimes did not come to him immediately, her image jogged his memory immediately.

“No! I’m not jealous! I just am tired of that expression on your face.”

The older man liked to imagine that she was at the time. It brought a small smile to his face at the thought. Truthfully, her feelings were fairly “ambiguous” around that time. He never had a grasp of her intentions for him at the time. He always assumed that she never would have seen him as more than a nuisance. Though, her subtle blush and constant desire to help him had him willing to entertain the thought of being wrong.

He hummed along to her lecturing. The brief interaction had him gain a small distance. Another reason why his journey lasted so long was that she vanished after the memory concluded. Every day, and sometimes every other day, had a memory for him. And once the memory played out, the man was left at his lonesome.

The brief interaction concluded a fair distance from where he made camp. Instinctually, the redhead set up his old cot and piled together some twigs. Due to losing her trail a few times, he learned to properly mark where she would reappear. The endless woods once had him uneasy. Brigands and monsters lurked in these parts.

The former noble was undaunted after years of wandering. The sound of screams did not deter him. His hand shot to his lance. His world no longer needed him. Faerghus did not require him any longer. He only lived by the whims of her memory, either through following her shadow or upholding a knight’s honor.

His weary eyes caught sight of the source of the cries. A band of thieves swarmed a merchant’s party. The travelers likely thought the old dirt trail was the best means of navigating the north. The unsavory look of the ruffians gave no uncertainties. The redhead readied his lance and rushed onward. His aching body was ignored in favor of saving lives. Before the first of the thieves took notice of the knight, the lance entered into his back. The other four were quickly on guard.

The former noble’s eyes wandered to the setting. One of the merchant’s guards was already disposed of. Second of the merchant’s guards were injured, unable to provide the older man any support. It would be one on four regretfully. It would be the villains’ disadvantage. The knight rushed his opponents before they could properly assess his capabilities. The second thief likely thought his opponent some pitiful kook before he was easily bested by a lunge. The third and fourth had the smarts to not gawk and stare. The duo charged the vigilante. The knight’s superior footwork and combat prowess had him react quickly and efficiently.

The two bandits were taken out swiftly after, only one remained. Unlike the rest, he had the smartest idea of fleeing at the first chance. As much as the former noble once would have pursued, his tired muscles and lesser stamina had him willing to let the man off. Years of wandering and fighting him in shape, but constantly sore.

He breathed a heavy sigh of relief at his easy victory and proceeded to rest against the tree. “Incredible!” The merchant cheered, a big grin plastered on his face. “I am truly grateful for the help. I thought I was as good as done for.”

The knight was about the same age as the merchant. The haggard look of the traveler told that he was not nearly in the same physique. His wounded guard and his young assistant both looked to be useless in a fight too. “Think nothing of it. Just be a bit more careful for me,” he mirrored the other’s smile. The accomplishment of saving lives had him in higher spirits. The blood that stained the grass was necessary for the lives of the innocent that he swore to protect.

“Of course! Of course!” He quickly responded, more than willing to take the advice. “By chance, would you help me the rest of the way to Arianrhod? I know it is a great distance, but your abilities are without peer. You must be a veteran of the war, right? You handle yourself better than any mercenary or do-gooder I’ve seen,” the more portly man was very talkative. The chance of conversation was not unappreciated.

The redhead nodded his head to the inquiry. “I assisted the Church in their march on the Empire. But, that was long ago. I prefer a more quiet life now,” his words hinted at his answer to the request. As capable and committed as he was to aid the common man, he wanted badly to follow the trail.

The implications were not lost on the other gentleman. He frowned, not too pleased with the answer. Yet, he was not perturbed for long. The mention of the knight’s service earned wonder. “That is too bad. If not accompany me, would you at least be willing to tell a tale? I am more than willing to share some liquor and provisions,” the merchant grinned as he retrieved a jug from his mobile cart.

Not one to refuse a drink, the knight politely nodded and motioned for the party to follow him toward his campsite. He wanted the company more than he wanted the liquor. The substance did little for him after he spiraled. He never fell to addiction, if anything he grew a tolerance too quickly. Liquor had no hold on him. His only relief was seeing her.

The merchant’s ramblings and questions mostly went over the knight’s head. He hummed at the comments and responded with simple answers. He was hardly one for conversation. Once the alcohol ran dry, there was little left to discuss. All present retired for the night.

Come morning, the redhead did not bother with the company. He collected his belongings and focused on the apparition. She appeared in the last spot he saw her. Like the previous memory, she wore the same officer’s uniform. The black and gold truly suited her beautiful blonde hair. He spared a final glance to the snoring merchant. He was not about to stray on his path when his journey was nearing its end. He had one year of their time at the academy before the war.

“You’re transferring classes?”

“I am sorry. I was curious about the new professor,” He answered the same way he had decades ago. He spoke softly this time around as to not alert anyone around. The merchant was not too far away.

“You can’t be serious. You’re only choosing her class because you think she’s attractive. Unbelievable!”

Her accusation was not unfounded. “Guilty as charged,” he offered a meek smirk, “I thought it would be more fun to learn from her.” He would come to realize that his time in the Black Eagles was a good choice. He got so much from being under Byleth’s tutelage. But at that time, he thought it a good way of getting back at his father. He never thought his decision would bother Ingrid so much.

“Goddess! Forget it. I don’t care if you join a different class.”

“Now don’t be like that. I will still see you guys around. You’re all still my friends,” he continued to parrot his words from long ago. It did not matter what he said. He did not need to speak or stay silent. All that he was required to do was follow her path. Her presence served as a compass through the forests, plains, and mountains that existed throughout the former kingdom.

“It doesn’t feel like that when you’re joining another class on a whim.”

The former noble truly failed to realize how much his choice affected her until seeing her reaction then. He had his inklings after thinking back on the event. But, he did not register the emotions in her eyes. “And it doesn’t change the fact that I am from Faerghus and will be going back with everyone once the school year is over. And besides, the professor liked the idea of having someone from the Kingdom in her class.” His hand pushed away a stray branch as her ethereal body simply fazed through any obstructions.

“Just don’t come crying to me when there’s nobody to bail you out. I won’t be around to help you out when you’re on missions in the Empire.”

“It could be nice if you joined me. The two of us sticking it to our fathers. That would be great, right?” That line had always bothered him. It in particular stuck in his mind. Out of all of his responses, that one he knew was completely accurate. It stuck in his mind because he wished she said yes. He often imagined the idea of her agreeing to become an Eagle with him. He thought of that throughout the school year, during the war, and especially after she was buried.

“I’m leaving now, Sylvain. Don’t bother me with your dumb ideas. If I want to be a knight, I would need to assist his highness and the others.”

Her reasons were justified. He never held her words against her. The blonde had far more reasons to stay than he had to leave. “I... look forward to hearing you complain about missing my company.” It was ironic how he would come to miss her so dearly. He yearned for her company.

“I look forward to the handprint on your face when I’m not there to protect you from an angry ex.”

That short dialogue again left the knight most of the day to think. He was tempted to stray from his spot and check for any giant wolves, anything to keep him from thinking too hard on events. As cathartic as it was to see her again, he had to grapple over the thought that he could have saved her. He could have convinced her to join the professor and trust in her path forward. Failing to convince her to join the Eagles was his first missed opportunity. He would have three more chances to save her. Had he known his future, he would have tried so much harder with each.

Drowned in his thoughts, he opted to spend that day counting rations and preparing for the trek to come. He always had a habit of keeping his food, water and belongings accounted for at all times. Death once enticed him. And yet, it sometimes terrified him even more at this leg of his journey. While he did not mind throwing his life around so freely, he still struggled with the thought of missing out. He needed to live long enough to see what all these memories meant. Once preparations were made, the redhead tried his best to sleep. 

The following day came with solitude. The older knight almost regretted sending the merchant on his way. The silent monotony already got to him. Despite his winding pilgrimage, he was never one to be so isolated. The apparition was his only consistent company. She always had him in better spirits. The intrigue that surrounded her kept him motivated. But in the early mornings and the late nights, he was left feeling beside himself.

The afternoon and evening with the merchant had him already missing conversation after his memory with Ingrid played out for the day. This memory was neither happy nor sad. The academy age Ingrid in that time was introducing her new pegasus to him. In some part, it was a kind memory. He found joy seeing her so elated. But in another way, it was not entirely pleasant. The redhead no longer had the chance to see her on stable duty. Her focus was henceforth on sky patrol. They would rarely see each other outside of class going forward.

The mixed emotions carried over into his camp and slumber. He felt restless, unsure if he should or should not replay the memory in his head. All that they once had vanished as they drifted apart. As glad as he was to see her again, he was reminded of his every failure in the process, big and small.

Thankfully, the next day was a warmer memory. He managed to beat her during a sparring match and saw her get flustered. She sputtered out how Professor Hanneman was better with magic while Professor Byleth preferred lances and swords. Even thirty priors, he still found her so dazzling. How he longed to see that same expression again and again. It made the frigid winds fade from his focus.

Not every day would be so kind. The memory he dreaded most arrived. The old knight understood immediately what he was about to see when it came. His eyes shied away, hoping that he could dispel the ghost from saying anything more. He did not want to remember the second opportunity to save her from calamity. After all, the second chance failed.

“And what exactly inspired you to do this?”

Even if she was only a single glimpse of that point in history, the scene manifested around the redhead. His eyes faced the ground. Instead of the uneven soil and patches of grass, he spotted an extravagant tiling. The lights had his eyes wandering up. He spotted the immaculate chandeliers. They looked almost as illusionary back then as they did at that moment.

“Dance with you? You’re joking, right? Who put you up to this?”

The words manifested on his tongue. The redhead matched the specter’s gaze. Her ethereal form felt all too real with her show of emotions. “It’s not a joke if I mean it,” he spoke in a small voice.

“Have you really run out of girls to hit on? Have you finally settled on flirting with me? Let me remind you what happened the last time-”

Much like his past self, he let out a dry chuckle at her quip. “Settled? Don’t be silly. There is not another girl as beautiful as you,” he sounded so much genuine than how he did back then. Had the boy known the events ahead, he would have been far more candid with his fledgling feels. The absence of her in his life had him become more aware of what he was missing.

“Please stop before you further embarrass yourself. You’re making me gag.”

It never made him all that happy to hear her not take pride in the compliment. The blonde truly was the academy’s most beautiful student. He was all for her rebuffing him, but he wanted her to acknowledge that fact. “I truly mean it. I’m not approaching you because there’s no one left. I’m pretty sure the short brunette over there has been eying me all night,” he spoke somberly. Back then, he was far more loud and outspoken. He was more than willing at one point to make a scene.

“Sylvain! Quit it!”

Her animated actions and sharp tone almost had the older man wince. After years of hearing her bite back, she still surprised him. “I swear on everything I hold dear that I’m not playing with you. You really do look beautiful. I would love the chance to have a dance,” the words carried new meaning from his mouth. Those sentiments held more true than ever. She was an angel in his eyes, but he would absolutely not word his feelings like that.

“And who put you up to this?”

“Ingrid, give me a break,” he chuckled at the implications of her statement. Was it all that hard to believe him? Definitely. He never earned her trust when it came to his flirting with so many different women. It was justifiably so she would scoff at his spur of the moment decision.

“You’ve never given me a break! You’re always causing trouble. And now, you’re just playing with my heart.”

He so often heard these words in response to his behavior. The memories never pulled punches. He always saw what she bluntly told him. Generally, their interactions involved her chiding him for his abhorrent behavior. “Playing with your heart? You make it sound like you might be interested in me,” he was teasing at the time. Secretly, he wanted the fact to be true. The champagne had him more hopeful than usual.

“I’m not! I just don’t want to let you get a rise out of me. I don’t want to be the punchline of your joke. I want to chat a bit more with my friends and leave.”

That rejection had him cringe. It was not fun having to hear her belittle his feelings, even if he definitely deserved it back then. As a man that spent decades reflecting on his missed opportunity, her words hit too close to his heart. “Aren’t I your friend? Why not stay and chat with me as we dance?” He sheepishly offered, not even thinking about how delusional he appeared.

“Would it really make you happy to dance?”

“Of course!” He blinked at how loud he got. His booming voice caused nearby birds to scurry away. “I would be happy to dance with you,” he continued his one-sided conversation.

“I’ll agree to dance on one condition. You cannot dance with anyone else for the rest of the evening.”

“Heh... I’ll agree to that if you agree to the same.” The redhead no longer sounded as smooth. He felt eager. Both young and old. The thought of seeing her dance had him whimsical. As dark of a memory as it was, it was one of the few romantic moments.

“... I guess. That’s acceptable.”

Her response had his heart skip a beat. How he was so surprised after hearing her answer years ago was beyond the knight. “Perfect!” He chirped, already moving to get into position. With the distance between them, it was impossible to pretend. His jubilee withered away as he watched an unseen person dance with the mirage. All his eagerness died once reality hit him. He would never get the chance to lock hands with her again. 

“You don’t seem all that interested in dancing.”

Her words had him snap back and look at her madly. How did she... He soon noticed her wary gaze and remembered that she said those words once before. The hope that she could talk to him directly was misplaced. “Well... To be honest, I was very much interested. I’m just a little distracted,” he tiredly responded.

“Does this have to do with your family?”

“Not my family. Yours actually,” the knight supplied back. The earlier disappointment had him sounding far more deflated. It was a challenge to muster any enthusiasm. To add to that, he was about to reach another unpleasant point in his memories.

“Mine? Why are you thinking about them?”

“I want you to be happy,” the redhead muttered. He barely understood why he continued to pretend that he had to participate in the conversation.

“Excuse me?”

It was a habit to play along. His body and lips acted along to the scene. “I’ve been thinking lately how much grief I’ve given you. I wouldn’t mind making it up to you at some point.” He took solace in hearing himself finally vocalize his current feelings. He wanted so often to apologize. If only that was how the memory ended.

“Making it up to me? Are you feeling alright, Sylvain? This sounds awfully selfless of you.”

“It feels right to be fair with you. So, why not return to Gautier territory with me? You could be a knight through my family’s decision,” the former noble winced at his words. This time, he extended the offer for them to fulfill some fantasy. Had she accepted... things would have been different. As his knight, she would be at his side. She would be safe. She would not be a translucent entity that spoke in only echoes.

“My father and your’s would prefer something else for me.”

The redhead’s heart froze as he saw her skepticism. And with the gap between them closing with each memory, he saw her expression more and more clearly. His brown eyes noticed the inkling of interest in hers. He could see that he was getting through to her. His younger self was never that aware of her mannerisms. “What can they do? Disown me? It’s a good idea. We don’t even have to wait for graduation.”

“Woah, woah, woah. We are not skipping on a first-class education.”

How would she have responded had he pressed harder? Could he have truly convinced her if he pushed more? He would never know. Sylvain chose to give up. He cowered from the thought of committing to his feelings. The knight would have tried until she gave him something. “True, true. You’re right. I do have to help my teacher. But think about it. Tomorrow, we can discuss the idea further.”

“Okay.”

The older version was bawling as the memory concluded. The tears came so suddenly, prompted by his final words. In a twist of fate, their conversation never came. Instead, an incident occurred right outside the monastery. A swarm of monsters terrorized the students. Captain Jeralt, his teacher’s father, was killed in the confusion by an assassin. Comforting the grieving woman and the state of alarm postponed his talk with Ingrid indefinitely. He never got the chance to persuade her. He never had the opportunity to stop the events to come.

His tears lasted him into the night. His heart yearned for events to be different. The reality was unkind. It reminded him of how close he came. The dark emotions had the older knight skipping supper. His appetite died alongside his proposal. And when morning came, he felt more tired than ever. His hope, his journey, and his love became his noose. Did he truly want to see what happened once the gap between them was gone?

The man knew that the memories to come would be more and more nightmarish. Calamity loomed on the horizon. His younger self was even aware that nothing good was to come following Jeralt’s assassination.

He knew that his second attempt to convince her was nothing compared to his third. In fear of the memory, he ran. He spent that day creating a distance between him and his campsite. In the process, he stumbled right into an unpleasant situation. The land below him caved under his weight. And to his surprise, he landed right in the den of a massive wolf.

Normally, the distraction would be a happy occasion. He not only got to honor Ingrid’s memory by slaying a beast, but he also got fresh meat. This time around, he forgot his lance. Armed with only a dagger, he had to survive the best he could. The creature barreled at him after taking a short whiff of his scent.

His joints ached as he managed to dodge the charge. His dodge was far better than his landing. The redhead fell right on his side. That was going to leave a bruise. He shot to his feet and watched the monster charge again. For any lesser man, there was no escape and no means of killing the menace.

For the veteran, he had awareness. He scooted back into a nearby crevice. With a large frame, the creature’s elongated maw could only fit in the space. The large set of blood-stained teeth were frighteningly close. The redhead was unnerved and plunged the dagger down into the vulnerable spot of the monster’s jaw.

The wolf howled in pain at the attack. Its cries kept it occupied enough for the man to find a path out. He managed to get back onto the grass. The sounds of the beast and rumbling told that he had little time to spare in his getaway. He found proper cover in the heavy thicket. Breathing heavy and sore all over, the man lived.

What motivated him to survive?

The knight struggled with the question. He had no intent on returning to his home. His child and his estate were better off with him dead. He was no longer the margrave. Ideas like saving lives or having another good meal came to mind, but he was not kidding himself. He still wanted to know what would happen. He wanted more than anything to understand what the illusion had in store for him. He would accept the pain associated with the memories if it meant fulfilling his quest.

His renewed resolved matter little, however. His flight from the wolf had him lose his direction. With thousands of identical trees, he had no clue which way was the correct way. It was not like he was traveling anywhere specific. He simply followed her.

One day. It took him an entire day to find his campsite again. In that time, he became frantic. His fear of never seeing her again, even as a mirage, had him trembling. He was praying to Sothis herself for guidance. As skeptical as he was of religion, he would beg to any higher being for aid. He was outright bawling at the sight of his old cot.

His exhaustion from fleeing the wolf to getting lost had him dead tired. His dread did not stop him from passing out. He was easy pickings for any bandit, bear, or beast. Come morning, he was unscathed, barring a few bruises from his run-in with the wolf.

Since he did not speak with her during the month after Jeralt’s death, their next memory was of small talk following the battle against Kronya and Solon. It was solemn. There was nothing all that good about the memory. But, the older man was simply glad to still watch the apparition. He was going to learn what happened when they finally touched. His hand outstretched to her during the memory. It would not be much longer till the moment of truth.

First, he needed to overcome the next memory. His third, unknowing, failed attempt at saving her from her demise.

In this glimpse, her ethereal form was shrouded by a veil of darkness. The scene was clear to him. Days after Edelgard’s betrayal in the tomb, he was attempting to ignore the heavy emotions and sleep when a knock sounded at his dorm room’s door. Clad in pajamas at that time, he went to answer his visitor. Both Sylvain and the present-day version of him saw nothing, but recognized the voice easily.

“Sylvain? Are you there? If you’re still awake, I would like to talk.”

Her visage came into view as his younger self opened the door to welcome her inside. “What’s up, Ingrid?” He spoke evenly, mentally prepared for what would come of this conversation.

“’What’s up’? What’s up? How can you sound so nonchalant about all of this?! Edelgard just declared war on the Church!”

The older man remembered how her accusation roused him from a half-asleep state. Her volume had him flinch. Even still, he went along with the conversation normally. “Relax, relax. I totally get it. I really do,” he appeased the specter. The image of Ingrid sighed and massaged her temples.

“You don’t sound like you get it. You sound like this will all blow over.”

“Of course not. I know that everything will change in a few weeks. I don’t know if the academy can even stand the might of the Imperial army,” he hated how right he was in that sentiment. But who could blame him? A fully mobilized army set upon an ill-prepared monastery would only have one result.

“Then don’t act so relaxed! I really don’t think everything will turn out okay.”

“Mhm. I hear ya. Loud and clear. And to tell you the truth, I don’t think there will be a happy ending to this. Some may die,” he winced at his own words. His younger self lacked any eloquence. Sylvain was always so quick to pessimistic behind his cheery expression. The knight was similarly defeatist when it came to himself, though. He never let go of the dour that hid behind his smile. There was always darkness hidden in his heart.

“How could you say that?!”

Even still, he liked to think he would have never said that again to Ingrid. The blonde did not deserve such a grim answer. Had he known what the war would have cost him... he would have hoped for a victory that day. “I’m not trying to be cold. I... well, want you to know that I’m not going to act carelessly.”

“Good. You better not get hurt.”

The older man lacked the heart to snicker and smirk as Sylvain had. He only presented a meek smile. “Is that why you came to visit? You were worried about me?” Rather than her blushing or denying the response, the apparition barked back.

“Don’t I have the right to be a little?”

A bitter taste manifested on his tongue. The knight frowned as he heard to vocalize his insecurities at that age. “I did transfer classes. I haven’t spoken to you much over the past few weeks. It feels like we really aren’t that close anymore,” he spoke in a whisper this time. He was reminded of how he drove a wedge between them.

“Do you not want to be friends?”

“Of course not!” The man shouted at his delusion, “I... Man, some smooth talker I am,” he emulated Sylvain well with his words. “Ingrid, I care about you too. I really care about you.” This moment was particularly close to his heart. Amongst his failed attempts to save her from ruin, this one had the cruelest twist of fate. It was when he decided to finally own up to his feelings.

“Sylvain...? Do you...?”

His botched confession was something he remembered clearly. He knew each stutter and each stammer. “I, maybe, goddess. It’s hard to say. We’ve barely talked. I’ve treated you so badly. I’ve ignored my feelings constantly. Should I feel like this?” He always denied his love. He constantly downplayed it and fought it. And because of that, he simply failed to fully understand the depth of it. The older man looked back on his miserable confession as an example of his inability to commit to his feelings. 

“I can’t tell you that.”

“Can you tell me if you feel the same?” He pleaded. The veteran wanted to relive this part of the moment in its entirety. If he had to suffer from rewatching his mistakes, he was allowed to savor the tender moments. He deserved to be lulled into a fantasy.

“I’m not sure. I... shouldn’t feel like this either. This feels strange. It feels wrong.”

“How long have you felt like that?” The follow-up question was instantaneous. He and Sylvain both needed to know more. They needed to know for sure if she truly matched their feelings.

“I’ve lost track.”

“It doesn’t matter. What matters is that we both stay alive, right? Nothing will change so long as we are careful. We can sort this stuff out after we repel Edelgard.” 

Wrong.

He did not say that. He did not foolishly reassure her. He did not accept that all would work itself out. He did not delude himself into thinking that their future would be a happy one.

Instead, Sylvain tried. He made another attempt at freeing her from her unknown destiny. The knight had to pay the price for his younger self’s failure. His eyes dropped to the floor. Tears threatened to take him as he let the words slip from his tongue. “Why not bail?”

“Sylvain! You can’t possibly mean that!”

The student meant that. He knew the danger ahead. He was aware of what the battle could cost him. And in response, he attempted to save his budding relationship, the one that he was finally starting to accept. “We can get away from everything. Sneak over the border and never return,” he spoke half-heartedly. His sobs nearly choked him. Words began to fail him as he stared tiredly at the apparition.

“Unbelievable. Are you listening to yourself? How could you be so insensitive?”

“There’s... a good chance we won’t make it. Something bad could... h-happen. I don’t want to die here. I w-want to... understand these feelings with you.” He was willing to give up all else to fulfill that desire. He was willing to go against duty and loyalties to ensure that they were happy together. And despite his willingness to create a better future for them both, he stood alone. He faced only her shadow.

“So, you’ll only leave if I join you?”

“Yes.”

“Well then, goodnight Sylvain. Get some sleep and please don’t bother me in the morning.”

He broke down. He did not care about the camp. His hands slammed into the earth beneath him. The middle-aged man was lost in his tantrum. All he could do was wail and curse his lack of resolve. What could have happened had he reached out his hand? Would she have listened if he proved his love?

He would never know. He failed to stop her from walking away. As pathetic as his attempt to stop her was, it still counted. It still was a chance to save them from tragedy. If she were alive, he could have looked on at that outburst with embarrassment. He showed such cowardice. 

His anguish lasted him from dusk to dawn. The pain never seemed to go away. Even as he picked from the dirt, he still felt exhausted. There was no morning dew. His tears ran dry. The empty feeling inside had him without appetite or need for respite. The only road ahead was to fulfill the final memories of her. After the battle, their destinies were mostly set.

He passively watched the memory of them awkwardly greet each other and pretend like he said nothing the previous night. The mirth in her eyes told that she did not forget his feelings. Even without words, they could still be a couple. The tenderness of the moment sadly did little to uplift the older man. He wanted to get through all of it. 

He was devoted to seeing what awaited him at the end of the journey. Everything would come with one single memory. It was the last attempt to save her and also their final words shared before she left him behind. 

The trees thinned around him. The apparition guided him from Gautier lands to what was once Fraldarius and Galatea. He crossed the Tailteann Plains. He detoured past Lake Teutates and into Rowe territory. And finally, he ventured out of the forests to the coast. 

And before he could take in the sight of the Rhodos Coast, he waited for her to return. He did not sleep that night. The anticipation filled him with adrenaline. 

He watched the ethereal form manifest as a star appeared in the morning sky. His weary brown eyes watched intently at the woman before him. She was not an infant. She was not a fledgling knight. She was not a student. She was a warrior. Her once beautifully long hair was short. Her black and gold uniform was replaced by armor. Her hopeful eyes were dulled by the reality of war. She stood almost within his reach, a mere inch from his touch. He approached as the apparition began to speak.

“Sylvain, what are you doing here?”

The events before this conversation were a blur. He recalled an arduous journey to Galatea territory before he rode to Garreg Mach. The detour had him meeting up with the blonde after so long. The former noble blanched as he realized what awaited him. “I wanted to see if you would be willing to accompany me back to the monastery. I promised the professor that I’d return for the festival. I figured you might want to join me,” he repeated the words dutifully. Though, he barely understood what motivated him to reenact this scene in particular. Playing along would only worsen the heartbreaking moment. 

“You know there hasn’t been a sighting of her since the Battle of Garreg Mach. It seems a little foolish to run off now.”

Her words rang true back then. There was absolutely no evidence to indicate Byleth’s return. Sylvain and the knight both understood that their reason to pursue her was baseless. The professor’s enigmatic nature was what had his younger self latch onto the idea of her return. “I got a feeling. She will return and end this war somehow.”

“And you think that’s a better idea than staying in Faerghus? Be serious Sylvain.”

“I know she will return,” he answered identically to his past self. Had Byleth not returned, he might have misremembered this scene. The reunion with his mentor was a momentous event, one that had him ditch his pessimism and latch onto hope. “I saw her do so already. You weren’t there in the Sealed Forest. You didn’t see the professor cut reality itself like paper.” 

“You have to admit that makes no sense.”

The knight did not roll his eyes as Sylvain had. He understood well that what Byleth did back then was beyond surreal. “Trust me, she will be back. I’m willing to take those odds. And, I think you should join me.”

“And why would I do that?”

Therein lies what brought him to her. “Ingrid, I want you by my side. I don’t want to be apart from you,” he too spoke with heart in his hand. It was a tense moment, one that had the older man confront the full extent of his feelings. This would be the last time his heart pounded so loudly to her voice. 

“I can’t abandon Faerghus. I will not rest until I find his highness and restore our realm.”

“But we can do that and follow the professor. Even if she doesn’t show up, what is a month away from the battlefront?” His frown was prominent on his face. He agreed with his words. There was little loss in the short trip to the monastery. Hindsight only added to the fact. Faerghus barely lasted much longer with Imperial pressure. 

“Now you’re sounding like you did all those years ago. You can’t possibly expect me to desert my homeland. I won’t have you planting thoughts in my head like you had in the final weeks at Garreg Mach.” 

The knight remembered how her words hurt Sylvain. Her callous tone actually offended his younger self. “... You think I’m trying to run away?”

“What should I think when you’re leaving Faerghus? What about Felix and Dimitri?”

Had events been different, the older man might have been bothered by the tone. He would have been slighted by the implications. He cared about his homeland and his friends. However, any anger he held was subsided by the grim outcome of their conversation. He wanted to misremember and wanted history to change before his eyes. “I’m doing what I think is right. I feel like returning to the monastery is the best idea. And I would be happy if you joined me.”

“What if I stayed here?”

He was begging at that point. He did the same in the past too, but the redhead back then did not realize the gravity of the situation. He did not realize that his happiness depended on this conversation. “Ingrid, please trust me on this. I know what I said before and realize how idiotic I sounded. However, I think this is the best path moving forward. Things are… bleak here. Even with his highness here, we would be unable to fight the Empire or the Dukedom. We need the Church and the professor to make the difference.”

“I still can’t abandon my country. As a knight of the realm, I must devote my lance to Dimitri and continue to follow Lord Rodrigue’s orders.”

“I see,” he curtly replied. The former noble took notice of his surroundings as he wandered closer to her still. He ventured closer and closer toward the coast. The beach was not what awaited him. He recognized that he neared a drop. 

“Sylvain, I… don’t think the worst of you. I think you’re well-meaning. I know you care. You wouldn’t have come all this way if you did not care about me.”

The redhead nodded along passively. He knew the rejection that awaited him. Despair seeped in as he prepared his reply to the specter. “You care about me too. I know you do.”

“I love you.”

“I love you too!”

“But my answer is still no.”

Hearing her say no tore his heart out. He felt empty with the word. He had to hear her decline his last attempt to save her a second time. He already wanted to cry, to sob, and to shout at her that it was too much. Instead, he continued to play out the scene. He played along to the delusion’s game like a marionette. “Don’t be so obstinate! I want you by my side. Being separated from you hasn’t been easy. I’ve been thinking about you more and more. It’s almost unhealthy.”

“Why not stay? I won’t stop you from leaving. I can tell you’re confident. However, my hands are tied. I swore myself to Kingdom and Crown. You have similar oaths. Please just let go of the thought and fight with me.”

Her words made sense. Sylvain would have almost agreed with her. It was on that day of all days that he felt confident in himself. On that date, he would not budge. He would stand by his feelings, if only because he thought it would save them all. “I cannot. I believe the path forward here is suicide. As much as it pains me to leave you, I will put an end to the war and create a future for us.”

“Look. I didn’t mean to come off so coldly. I... don’t want to say goodbye. I don’t want this to be the last time we speak.”

It hurt, even more, seeing her expression again. His heartache was at its worst seeing her reflect his fears. The knight grappled with the idea that she could have very well been in his boots, chasing his shadow instead of him chasing hers. “It makes me happy to hear you worry. I promise to return to you alive and well.”

“I’m holding you to that promise.”

The knight nearly fell to his knees with those parting words. They were the last they shared. In a cruel twist of fate, he upheld her promise. He never made her promise the same. He failed to utter the words. His memory failed to recall if it was a fear of even mentioning the idea or if he was convinced she made an unspoken vow to do the same. Hindsight made the final recollection taste all the more bitter. He wanted to give in the wave of sorrow, to openly wail at his failure. He nearly fell into another tantrum then and there. Yet, there was something else that took his focus.

She was within reach. He only needed to extend his hand to her and lean over the edge. Her specter remained, not yet fading after the memory played out. If she were truly there, her hand would keep him from plummeting. The older man knew what would happen if she was not present. The steep drop into the rocky shore below would be fatal. The crashing of waves against the sharp spires was a constant reminder of what his fate could be. His curiosity and desperation for her shadow had him fighting his better judgment.

What was his life without the apparition? What would he do without this quest? What was left for him in a world without her? 

He wearily stared at the spirit. There were no tears to cloud his vision. His inner conflict kept him from feeling any one emotion. He was disheartened by the last memory, but he was also afraid of what one step would mean. And if he did not take the leap of faith, would he live to regret his choice? What remained for him? Was his fate to return to his domain and assist the current Margrave? He had no concise idea on how to proceed. 

“What should I do?” He said tiredly to the apparition. 

“What do you think I would want?”

The answer had him almost jump. His sorrow and madness were replaced by sheer bewilderment. In the years he spent running after her, she never answered him. There was never a response other than what was said in his episodes. “You… you talked back. You are actually talking to me, right…?” Perhaps, this was what lies at the end of his journey. 

“Sylvain. We both know that I am not her.”

Her words had him deflate. He was disappointed by her immediate clarification. The older man did not mind the thought of living in a fantasy. “Right… I just…”

“I know. You miss her dearly. You never got to say goodbye. You never got to truly have a life with her.”

“So what are you?” There was an inkling of hope. He was losing his grip on reality, but he still was desperate to make the most of his insanity. His visions were what occupied his thoughts until then. 

“It is as you know. I am her shadow. The part of her that exists in you. I live within your subconscious and have been with you since the beginning.”

Withered by years of wandering, the man shakily stood before the apparition. The fatigued look in his eyes told that he was willing to accept her words as gospel. “Have you come to give me the answer? Do you know if I should reach for your hand?”

“I do not have your answer. I am not you, Sylvain. All I can do is talk you through what comes next.”

Her words did little to deter the man’s questions. Instead, he felt more motivated to get any answers from her. He was too tired to think for himself. He fully embraced what the illusion had to say. “If I reach for your hand, what will happen?”

“You will join her. You will be able to end your quest and give up everything that you’ve built.”

The blunt answer had him wince. He did not expect her to be so candid after giving him nothing with her last response. Her wording did not pull any punches either. There was no uncertainty on his survival from this fall. “And… what will happen if I turn back?”

“You will resume your life without me.”

That answer too had him react. Her words vexed him. Was she trying to frustrate him or make his choice more difficult? “I thought you said you would always be with me.”

“Sylvain, you conjured me to help you cope with her loss. You were no longer able to repress me, so you let me free. You let me give you glimpses of your life with her. You allowed me to help you make your choice. Will you let go of her or will you join her?”

He knew this question would come. He would delude himself by thinking that nothing else would come from chasing the shadow. Every day had him thinking over this question, either when reliving the memory or when the illusion vanished. What would become of him? Was death his only option to be freed from the misery? “I don’t know. Goddess, I have no idea.”

“You cannot delay forever. Your legs will grow tired. When you look away, I will be gone.”

He thought to himself. The old knight did not have long to decide. His legs shook under the weight of his exhaustion and armor. The lance in his hand felt heavy. He either had to pull away or take one step forward. He had to decide if he was willing to let go of her. He needed to determine if it was time to cease chasing shadows. 

Did he need to make this decision?

The older man pondered that question. He could turn his back on her and decide another day to end his pitiful life. There were always more opportunities to die. Suddenly, the choice felt meaningless. He would cease chasing her shadow regardless, either through his volition or his death. She had to know that. She… was Ingrid. Ingrid would not force him to decide between life and death so lightly. She would not want him to die like this. 

What would Ingrid want?

This question was what had the redhead pause a moment longer. It was what she first asked him. He knew he would join her someday. In his heart of hearts, he knew he would see her again in death. Would she welcome him? Would she smile upon him for finally rejoining her and the others? The answer to that question was obvious. 

“I… think I know what I must do,” Sylvain muttered. As much as he still dreaded what came next, he was resolved. His brown eyes reflected his assuredness. He wholeheartedly believed in his choice. 

“Have you made your decision?”

He cracked a small smile, still recovering from the flashbacks. Everything about this scenario was laughable. He never thought about what Ingrid wanted until that day. He either ignored her or lambasted himself for failing her. He sure was pathetic. “Yes. It was unfair, but I realize now what you have been doing.”

“Oh? Have you seen through me?”

His confidence exuded in his posture. He no longer let his despair weigh him down. He stood taller than he had in years. His pain was eclipsed by a surge of clarity. This newfound resolve brought him up from his lowest point. “No need to tease me. It was so clear why you did all this. You… did not want me to choose. You never wished to give me the choice to live or die. You are Ingrid’s shadow. She would have never put me in such a scenario. You always had your answer. You just wanted me to realize it for myself.”

“Tell me what it was.”

Sylvain felt Ingrid’s ghost at his side. She gave him the voice to speak with absolute certainty to his delusion. “It is only four words. Those will be the last I say to you.”

“Don’t keep me waiting for too much longer.”

“I know, I know,” the older man answered playfully. It was a bittersweet moment. While he had to let go of her, he also found his reason to carry on. “Can’t a guy be a little theatrical?” He concluded his whimsy after that. His expression hardened as the words manifested on his tongue. He was ready to vocalize what caused the sudden shift in his personality. “Ingrid…”

“I am listening.”

“I will honor you,” Sylvain muttered before turning his back to her one last time. Without even looking, he knew she was gone. “I will honor you always,” he added one more word. The redhead knew the extent of Ingrid’s heart. He knew that she would be disappointed in him if he succumbed to his worst desires. He loved her and would always love her. The stream of memories reminded him of that fact very well. She wanted him to carry on her dream and be a hero to their homeland. He would not retire from saving the common man. He would continue to live on as a paragon knight and legend to the realm. 

Even if she was not there to cheer him on, Sylvain would make her proud and return to her having fulfilled the dream she longed to see come to pass. 

“Goodbye, Ingrid. I will see you again someday, but I’m not ready yet. There is still so much more to do.”


End file.
